Family Genes
by deepfriedcake
Summary: Luke discovers that he has more in common with Jess than he might have thought.


Finally Luke heard the diner's door slam shut downstairs. Quickly he plopped himself down in the kitchen chair he'd placed five feet back from the door that still had 'Office' painted on the glass.

Then he held his breath and waited for his nephew to come through the entrance.

Luke remembered his own father surprising him one night like this. He and a couple of high school buddies had had a summer's night full of mild mischief and carousing, and the news of their exploits had reached his home before he did. He'd never forgotten the shock of opening the door straight into the sternly silent face of William Danes. He knew there'd been punishments – a loss of driving privileges and washing Taylor's windows he remembered for sure – but it was the disappointment on his old man's face that had done the most to curtail any further youthful exploits on his part.

Luke didn't expect this intervention to have the same effect on Jess, but frankly, he'd run out of ideas. He was desperate. He had to try something to get through to the kid. And this was it.

The apartment door opened and Jess stepped over the threshold, his head bowed down in thought. By the time he finally looked up he was almost on top of Luke.

"Geez!" Jess startled and leaped backwards, nearly crashing back against the door he'd just closed. Instantly he was angry. "What? The TV break? You're so desperate for entertainment in this hick town that you're reduced to watching the door now?"

"I've had a really fun day," Luke said, giving the words such a sarcastic edge that even Jess should have been proud of him. He crossed his legs and settled back on the chair, preparing for a session of storytelling. "Let me tell you how truly wonderful it's been."

Jess's eyes darted from one side of Luke to the other, charting an escape route, but he got the message from Luke's harsh face that he was supposed to stand there and stoically listen to whatever was coming. "Sure," he sighed, resting his shoulders back against the glass in the door. "Let's hear it."

"It started out with me practically begging Lorelai to let you come over and clean out her gutters. Hell, I practically offered to pay you myself, just to make it happen. See, I thought this would be what you call a win-win situation. I thought you'd be able to help Lorelai out with a chore she needed to have done, and I wouldn't have to worry about her getting the crazy idea to try it herself and ending up falling off the roof and breaking her leg. I thought maybe you doing something nice would let her see past that perpetual sneer on your face and realize that you actually had some good points, and then maybe she wouldn't freak out the next time you talked to Rory." Luke uncrossed his legs. He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees as he glared at Jess. "But that's not what happened, is it?"

"No," Jess muttered, looking off to the side.

"No," Luke said mockingly. "Instead I get Lorelai back in here, chewing me up one side and down the other, telling me that you stole Rory's bracelet!"

Jess glowered but didn't respond.

"I've seen the thing," Luke ranted on, throwing one hand up over his head. "Ratty leather and some discolored medallion. It's not like it's worth anything! Why in the world would you steal it?"

"I didn't steal it," Jess ground out.

"But you had it."

Jess grimaced and jerked one shoulder, acknowledging that fact.

"Jess." Luke sighed wearily and rubbed at the face he really should have shaved this morning. "Why did you have it?"

"She dropped it." Jess shrugged, looking anywhere but at Luke. "I stuck it in my pocket."

Luke was trying hard to understand. "But why didn't you just give it back to her?"

Jess shrugged again. "Thought I'd mess with her some."

Luke shot out of the chair and started to pace in agitation. "You thought you'd _mess_ with her? How stupid are you? You don't _mess _with girls like Rory Gilmore! Not unless you want the whole militia on your tail!"

"You mean the old guys who dress up with the fake muskets?" Jess smirked. "Yeah, I think I can take them."

"Stop it!" Luke growled. "Stop trying to act like you've got a clue when you don't! This town loves Rory, don't you get that? You 'mess' with her and every resident of Stars Hollow is out to get you. But hey, don't worry about any of them! Don't worry about Dean, who could probably squeeze your head off with his forearm. Don't even be concerned with Lorelai, who could probably come up with at least a dozen creative ways to kill you. Hell, don't even think about the grandparents, who could probably hire someone to handle you efficiently and bloodlessly and put your body next to Jimmy Hoffa's." Luke stepped up right next to Jess and stared coldly down into his face. "None of them would even get a crack at you. Wanna know why?" Luke leaned into his nephew's space, letting his physical presence add to the threat. "Because I'd get you first. You do anything stupid with Rory and I promise you I'll be the one to take you out."

Jess lost the smirk and bowed his head. His shoulders hunched, and probably through some trick of the shadowed light he appeared to his uncle to be about eight years old again. Now suddenly feeling like a bully, Luke took several steps back and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting to hear a response.

"I didn't mean mess with her like that." Jess took a deep breath and let it out. For once his voice wasn't overlaid with sharp sarcasm and Luke could tell that Jess meant the quiet words. "I'd never do anything to hurt Rory. You don't have to worry about that."

Luke sighed and dropped back down into the chair, taking the time to study the young man before him. "That's what I don't get. You like Rory, right?" He saw Jess start to protest and he altered his words. "I know you don't want to be here and you despise most of the people you've met, but I thought Rory was the one person in Stars Hollow you respected. At least you seem to like talking to her. I thought she was your friend."

Jess looked at him warily, as if he expected a trap. Finding nothing, however, he nodded, looking away from Luke. "Yeah, Rory's not like all of the other inmates in this crazy town. I don't know how she's managed to keep from slitting her wrists, seeing that she's stuck here in this loony bin."

Luke stopped himself from pointing out that Rory seemed pretty happy to be stuck in Stars Hollow. "So why hide her bracelet if she's your friend?"

A growl of frustration rumbled up out of Jess. "Look," he said with heat, starting to pace back and forth in front of Luke. "We had the picnic. The stupid picnic with the basket. She stood up. The bracelet landed at my feet. I picked it up. I thought in two seconds she'd go 'Oh, where's my bracelet?' and I'd hand it to her and we'd laugh. But it didn't happen that way! She never even noticed it was gone! And then, I just…" Jess stopped, staring at the closed door. He put his hands in his pockets and turned back to Luke, shrugging. "I didn't know how to get it back to her. It was like it'd gone on for too long. It got to the point where I didn't know how to make it better without making it worse."

Something half-remembered was poking at Luke, something that made him look more sympathetically at Jess. "So what happened today?" he asked calmly, ready to listen.

"I don't know!" Jess threw up his arms and paced again. "I guess she was with Doofus and he noticed it was gone."

"Doofus being Dean?" Luke angled his head at the floor, not wanting Jess to catch the grin on his face.

"Yeah. He asked where it was and that made Rory run home to mommy and from then on it was just mass confusion." Jess shook his head and absently rubbed at his cheek. "I tried to figure out how to get it back to her, but Lorelai was always around and I just didn't know…" He swallowed and looked at Luke, angry and embarrassed. "I just didn't know what to do," he self-consciously admitted.

"So you hid it in her room," Luke surmised.

"Yeah." Jess shook his head, like he couldn't believe his own stupidity.

"And then you basically told Rory where to look."

"Yeah," Jess acknowledged again, still sounding disgusted.

"And Lorelai figured it all out."

Jess gave a snort. "For once."

"Jess." Luke gave him a pitying look. "There's a reason Rory's as smart as she is, you know. That apple didn't fall far from the tree."

"Whatever," Jess said dismissively.

"That's part of your problem, you know," Luke told him.

"What is?"

"Your attitude towards Lorelai."

"Not a problem as far as I can see," Jess replied smartly. "She doesn't like me and I don't like her."

"Exactly." Luke pointed his finger at Jess, nodding at his accurate assessment. "But you know who does like her?"

Jess choked on a laugh. "Yeah, I know who likes her," he said drily, nodding slightly at his uncle.

Luke chose to ignore his innuendo. "Rory. I've never seen a mom and daughter as close as those two are. Any boy who wants to have a chance with Rory is going to have to have the Lorelai seal of approval. You had a chance today to earn some points with her and you blew it."

This time Jess did laugh out loud in disbelief. "What? You think I should have told Lorelai that I took her little princess's bracelet? Right. Then you and I could be having this cozy little chat in jail."

"She would have been furious with you," Luke partially agreed. "And nobody does mad quite like Lorelai does. But the thing you don't know – the thing you don't give her credit for – is that she's fair." He got up and walked over to where Jess was standing. He tried to think carefully about what to say next. "I know you think you've gotten a raw deal out of life so far, and maybe you have, Jess. But being unjustly judged is something Lorelai knows all about. You're absolutely right though, she would have been steaming mad at you. But once she got over wanting to dip you in boiling oil, she would have respected your honesty. She would have realized the guts it took for you to tell her the truth. It would have helped to bring her over to your side, and ultimately it would have helped your chance with Rory. And that's the goal, right?"

For just a moment Jess looked at Luke with hope in his eyes. But then that cool uncaring mask of his settled back into place and Luke knew he'd lost whatever advantage he'd been struggling to win.

"Sure. Right." The sarcasm was being laid on extra thick. "Like she'd ever let me get anywhere close to Stars Hollow's perfect princess."

"Stop it." Luke knew he didn't mean it, but he was tired of hearing him mock Rory's sweetness. "Why can't you just admit that you like Rory?"

The laugh from Jess was bitter this time. "Gee, Uncle Luke, I don't know. Maybe you need to lead by example."

"Jess—"

"Come on! You know this is all because you're so caught up in what _she_ thinks! This has nothing to do with me! This is all because you don't want _her _being mad at _you_!"

_Deep breath. Count to ten._

"Jess, all I'm trying to do is help you fit in here. I'm trying to show you that it's not that hard! I'm trying to convince you that you can make some friends and actually be happy here!"

"Bullshit." Jess fidgeted, suggesting nervousness, but looked back at him coldly. "I can never figure out if you're as dumb as you seem or if you're just that desperate to hide the truth. God knows, living in this mind-numbing town for all of your life has had to have taken a toll on your brain. It's a wonder you can still make change. Good thing you still have the smarts to make her precious coffee every day, because what would you do if she stopped coming to the diner, huh?"

Luke tried hard to see through the disguise of Jess's sneer to that scared eight-year-old he'd glimpsed earlier. "This has nothing to do with me or Lorelai," he managed to say as dispassionately as he could. "I'm trying to _help_ you."

"God!" Jess whirled around, kicked at the door, and in another half-second was facing Luke again, his chest heaving and his fingers curled into fists as he tried to control his emotions. "You don't even _hear _yourself, do you? It's _always_ about her! Why did you want me to go clean out her gutters?"

Luke fought down the urge to rattle Jess's smugness by muscling him back against the door. He forced the words out between his clenched teeth. "I told you. Because I thought it would be a way for you—"

"Wrong!" Jess yelled. "It was because you were worried about her! That was the first thing you said. You said you didn't want her trying to do it and falling and breaking her leg! Why can't you just admit it?"

It wasn't until he felt Jess staring at him that Luke realized how long he'd been silently contemplating his accusations. "That's not true," he muttered, but by then it was too late to take a stand. "Of course I care about Lorelai. She's a good friend – a _friend_, Jess – and I certainly don't want to see her get hurt. But this was about you. Helping you. I had no ulterior motives here."

"Pitiful." Jess's tone was scathing. "Tell you what. As soon as you start to figure out your own mess, then I'll turn all introspective on mine, OK?"

With less anger then he would have expected, Luke pushed past Jess and stepped to the door. He opened it and pointed down the hall. "Go," he directed, but with no fury in the word.

Jess curled the fingers on his right hand and brought them tensely up to his lips, looking apprehensively over his shoulder at his scattered belongings in the small apartment. He looked young and scared again, and Luke suddenly realized how his command had sounded.

"Go down to the kitchen," he explained more fully. "Start mopping the kitchen floor. I know how much you love that chore, so I made sure that there were extra grease splatters in front of the stove just for you. I'll be down directly to supervise."

Luke pretended not to notice how Jess's shoulders slumped in relief when he realized he was being punished, not banished. But even after that scare he still had to have the last word.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it, Uncle Luke?" the punk shot out at him, still trying to swagger nonchalantly out the door.

"Get started. I want Caesar to be able to see himself in the linoleum when he gets here in the morning," Luke ordered, giving Jess a half-hearted push.

He listened to his nephew's feet clatter down the stairs. He waited until he heard the water running in the pipes, knowing then that Jess had started filling up the mop bucket.

Wearily, Luke moved into the center of the room, out of the light cast from the hallway. He removed his hat and rubbed his head, trying to make himself wake up and think. His back was aching again, he noted. That was happening more and more often at the end of these long days. A shard from a broken coffee mug had scraped the skin on his thumb and he could feel the soreness there every time he moved his hand. But it wasn't his physical ailments that were causing him a feeling of unease. Something that Jess said had triggered a sort of ache in his memory. Something like a blister on his soul. Something he couldn't quite grasp and examine.

It wasn't the wild accusations about himself and Lorelai. He'd heard that enough from so many different sources that it barely registered anymore. He didn't like hearing it spewing from Jess's mouth, but it didn't surprise him that the kid had heard the rumors.

No, it was something else. Something that had hit too close to home. Something that he'd tried to bury. Some weakness that he didn't want to recognize.

Slowly he turned, and gradually his eyes focused on the dresser by his bed. For one heart-stopping moment, shame made him freeze. But once the shame burned away, all he could think about was holding the pilfered treasure in his hand again.

This time he went furtively to the door, holding his breath to listen for noises from below. Feeling confident that Jess was in the kitchen, he noiselessly shut the door. After a moment of wrestling with his fears, he reached for the key in the lock and turned it, making sure his nephew had no way in. Then he almost tip-toed over to the dresser.

It was the useless, shallow drawer underneath the mirror that he opened. He'd forgotten how it stuck and wood screeched on wood when he pulled it open. The noise made him grimace and he felt foolish for looking back over his shoulder at the locked door but was unable to stop himself from doing it.

Hardly anything fit in the small space. Luke pulled out a narrow velvet case that had once held a graduation pen but was now filled with cufflinks that had belonged to his father and grandfather. He took out an old film canister, hearing the rattle of baby teeth inside which his sentimental mother had saved and that he was incapable of throwing away, even though he thought they were disgusting. Next he removed a stack of greeting cards saved from birthdays and holidays over the years, along with a few family pictures. His sister Lizzie looked up at him in black and white from the top of the pile, the teeth that were missing in her smile probably residing in the black canister he'd just removed from the drawer. He reached into the drawer once again and couldn't stop the gasp that escaped when his skin touched the forbidden silk hidden there.

The scarf chased his rough hands out of the drawer, joyous to be out in the air again. It slid and swooped, teasing the backs of his hands before it puddled on the top of the dresser. It was long; long enough to circle her porcelain neck several times and still have the fringed ends hang to her waist. Luke had turned off most of the lights in the apartment to make his confrontation with Jess more dramatic, but what light there was caught the silk threads and made each varied hue of blue shimmer with an almost magical iridescence.

That was what he remembered the most. How much the scarf and her eyes matched. Every shade that sparkled in her eyes had been caught in the scarf. Somehow he knew that this silk had been destined to wind its way around her neck alone. Every time she moved, or laughed, or talked, the scarf mirrored those blue eyes. He'd barely been able to look away from her that day.

She'd come in that morning dressed in a coral jacket, with the same shade glossing over her full lips. The scarf was looped around her neck, the glistening threads casting some sort of spell over him. He stared and didn't care. She was breathtaking and perfect and he wanted her so much he really didn't think he could fight against it any longer.

But then she'd started teasing him. Asked him if he'd been out on a date the night before. Speculated that he was mooning over some one-night stand. Began listing anyone in town she thought he might be sweet on, along with any physical attributes that might attract his attention. Soon he was irritated with her enough that he'd stomped back to the kitchen; mad at how clueless she could be, but yet oddly thankful that she'd managed to break the scarf's hold over him before he could do something irredeemably stupid.

It was warm in the diner that day and Lorelai soon took off her jacket. The scarf was unfurled and tucked into the jacket's sleeve, which was left hanging from the back of her chair. What happened next was a nearly daily occurrence for the Gilmore girls: They discovered they were late. One last gulp of coffee was hurriedly swallowed. Bags were hoisted. Jackets flung back on. Bills scattered on the table.

As usual, Luke turned to watch them go. He saw the scarf fly from her sleeve and float ethereally to the floor. He'd immediately rushed after her, scooping up the silk as he went, but by the time he'd reached the door her car was already bouncing down the street.

_No problem_, he'd thought, absent-mindedly stroking the pretty silk, the sensation reminding him of a woman's soft skin. He'd just give it back to her the next time she came in. The scarf disappeared into his pocket and he soon forgot about it in the bustle of the busy diner, so much so that he was surprised that night to see it when he emptied his pockets upstairs. He made a mental note to take it to her the next day.

But the next night it was still on his dresser. The night after that, too. Soon a week had gone by and he was still in possession of the scarf. A month passed by in a blur. He shoved the scarf into the drawer to get it out of his sight and to salve his itchy conscience.

He'd never meant to keep the scarf. He'd always intended to give it back to her. But the situation had reached a tipping point where the awkwardness of returning it to her totally outweighed the benefit of getting it out of his life. The scarf continued to live in the narrow drawer, along with the cufflinks that were never used and the other mementoes he didn't want but couldn't bear to throw out.

It was always a shock, on the rare occasions when the drawer was opened, to see the watery blue silk shining up at him. It made him think of things he would prefer to keep buried. Things like her eyes. Her smile. The intimate way the scarf had caressed her neck. The way he suspected that her skin would surely feel just like the silk.

Luke sighed, understanding Jess more than he wanted to admit. He understood the trap that Jess had fallen into because he was stuck there himself.

The scarf had wrapped itself around his wrists as he pondered the situation, seemingly by itself. The silky sensation was nearly hypnotic. With heavy-lidded eyes Luke glanced down, his imagination seeing Lorelai's graceful wrists bound by the shimmering silk instead of his own. Her wrists. His hands. The scarf. His bed…

_No!_ Luke jumped with a start, the scarf falling free to the floor. He didn't think such things about Lorelai. He just…didn't.

A deep breath settled his nerves. He stooped to pick up the scarf.

He understood that Jess was proud and fiercely independent. Somehow, though, he needed to make his nephew accept that _he_ was in charge without alienating him completely. Whether Jess liked it or not, he was the official adult in their house. He was the one who had lived more years of life, and even though Jess would sneer at him, he was the one who'd already learned certain life lessons the hard way. All he needed to do was to convince the kid to listen to him.

Luke sighed_. Right._

While deep in thought, the scarf had once again rubbed itself against his hands, like a purring cat anxiously waiting to be petted. Luke imagined trailing the silky ends over Lorelai, her skin pebbling as the soft threads found their way between her—

Luke stifled a groan of dismay and gave the blue silk a look of horror before he stuffed it unceremoniously back into the drawer. He crammed the other keepsakes on top of it and quickly slammed the drawer closed. He'd forgotten that the scarf was every bit as persistently seductive as the woman who had once owned it.

Resolutely Luke turned from the dresser and marched to the door. Right now Jess needed him, whether he realized it or not. And that was what he was going to focus on, making life more bearable for Jess.

His own demons he'd battle another day.

Luke was finding out that the whole well-worn 'the darkest hour is just before the dawn' tripe was actually pretty true. It was at least an hour before any rays of sunlight would be seen, and it was so dark it was hard to imagine the world ever being bathed in daylight again. It was dark, it was cold, and Luke was grinding his teeth at his own stupidity while trudging ever closer to the Gilmore's house.

It was the damn scarf's fault.

He'd gotten into bed, finally, after supervising Jess's stint with the mop. He had closed his eyes, expecting to fall asleep quickly after dealing with his nephew's spectacular lack of judgment. He thought he'd done a good job of mixing punishment with soul-searching.

But the damn scarf wouldn't let him off the hook.

'Hypocrite,' he could hear it hiss at him. 'Easy to tell Jess what to do, isn't it? Not so easy when you know you're no better.'

Luke tossed and turned, trying to ignore the piece of blue silk once again hidden in the dresser drawer.

'You can't hide me from Jess,' the scarf whispered. 'He looks at you and he sees the truth. Why should he obey the man who doesn't even follow his own rules?'

After hours of recriminations and no sleep, Luke gave up. He got up and dressed in the dark. He pulled out the shallow drawer, holding his breath when it squeaked and rattled. Even in the total darkness his fingers found the sweet silk at once. Roughly, Luke stuffed it into his coat pocket, wanting to be done with it, refusing to be mesmerized for one more moment by the soothing texture.

He slipped down the steps like a thief and quietly entered into the night. Firing up the truck might call too much attention to his mission, so he walked. Walking seemed more appropriate as a penance, anyway.

Luke kept his head down and lengthened his steps. He was standing in front of Lorelai's house in no time.

He put his hand out and touched the mailbox, but shook his head at that idea. No. Who knew how often the careless Gilmore girls even checked the box for mail? And he didn't want to see the mailman sporting the blue scarf around his own neck on some future day.

Luke continued his trek, stepping up onto the porch as lightly as he could. Then he paused, hands on his hips, surveying the options. Finally he decided that looping it around the doorknob would be the simplest and best solution. She'd have to see it hanging there.

But the silk had other ideas. It slid and squirmed in his hands, dripping over the doorknob and slipping into a pool on the floor underneath.

Bending over, Luke muttered something profane as he snatched up the scarf. He was trying to tie the ends around the handle once again when the knob held and turned right under his fingers.

Luke jumped backwards, too startled to even realize he was in the midst of being caught. Rory Gilmore stood in the doorway, her hair sleep-tousled, a stack of 3X5 cards in her hands.

"Luke?" she whispered, blinking. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing up?" he demanded back, instantly defensive.

She rustled the cards in her hands. "Studying. I've got a big test today so I got up early."

He fell back on the protective gruffness he'd cultivated over the years. He waved his arm at the door. "And you just open up your door to anyone at this hour of the night?"

Rory blinked at him again, but then her mouth set in a way that made him think of Lorelai. "No. Normally when someone's prowling around our house at 4:30 in the morning I'd call the cops. But luckily for you, I recognized you through the glass."

Luke opened his mouth but found he really had nothing to say back to that.

Rory's eyebrows pulled together and she pointed at the scarf. "Is that Mom's?"

"I think so," Luke said, as if he didn't know. He lobbed the long piece of fabric her way, then shoved his hands into his coat pockets, happy to be rid of it.

"She lost this years ago." Rory smiled slightly, letting the watery silk drift through the fingers of one hand. "Where did you find it?"

Panic poured over him. He never thought he'd need a cover story.

"Just…In the diner. You know." Luke hoped his words sounded casual and plausible. As an afterthought, he added a shrug. "People leave things."

Rory stopped fingering the silk and looked at him closely. "Why bring it by now? You know we'll be in the diner in just a few hours for breakfast."

Luke wet his lips, the better for the lie to pass over them. "I kept forgetting to give it to her. I saw it lying there this morning, and just thought I'd bring it over so I wouldn't forget again."

"Oh. Sure," Rory said slowly. Luke could tell by her reticence she didn't really believe him, but she trusted him, so she was agreeing to take him at his word. He felt worse than ever. "How did you know it was Mom's?"

"I…It just…" Luke swallowed and took time to rub his forehead, struggling to find words. "It just looked like her, I guess."

"Yeah, it does," Rory said softly, looking down at the scarf. "Well, thanks. She'll be glad to have this back."

"No problem." Luke's legs felt weightless, now that he was minus the pilfered burden. He bounded towards the steps.

"Luke." He had almost escaped when Rory called him back. He reluctantly turned to see her.

She was still fingering the scarf but her eyes were staring off to the side. "Jess took my bracelet, didn't he?"

He came back up the steps as quickly as he came to his nephew's defense. "He didn't steal it, Rory, if that's what you're thinking. He just had it. He says you dropped it that day when you had the picnic. He picked it up and kept it, I guess to tease you or something. You know how stupid teenage guys are. He didn't – He didn't know what it meant to you." Luke motioned at her wrist, where the leather band was again in sight.

"What it meant," Rory murmured, under her breath. She sighed and looked up at Luke again. "I knew he didn't steal it. I knew that."

"He didn't mean to hurt you," Luke insisted.

"I wish he'd just tell me," Rory said wistfully. "It would make everything so much simpler."

Luke nodded his agreement.

Up above their heads a bird began to twitter sleepily, perhaps chastising them for waking him so early.

Rory nodded too, then looked again at the scarf twisted over her arm. "I won't tell Mom you brought this back. I'll just put it up in her room and let her come across it sometime."

Luke sucked in a sharp breath of relief. "_Thank you_," he said, meaning those words as sincerely as anything he'd ever uttered in his life.

"Dad gave this to her," Rory explained then, looking up slyly from under her lashes. "It was a Christmas gift one year. Grandma looked at the label and said it was hideously expensive."

"Is that right?" Luke said curtly. The pre-dawn air curled down the back of his neck and made him shiver.

Rory's head bobbed. "'Course, that's not why Mom felt awful when she lost it. It could have come from the thrift shop and she would felt just as sorry for losing it. She just cared because Dad told her he'd picked it out specially for her. He had some big story about how it exactly matched the colors in her eyes, as I recall." Her smile was devilishly sweet. "So she'll be glad to have it back."

"Good." Luke ground the word out between his teeth, and then turned on his heel to leave once more, wanting desperately to get away from these fickle females with their cheap leather bracelets and expensive silk.

"Luke, wait." Rory called him back once more.

"What?" he asked impatiently. All he wanted was his feet on the ground, marching back to his diner.

Rory stepped over the threshold and out onto the porch in her bare feet. "You should really talk to Mom sometime."

"Well, yeah, with your mom that's not a hard thing to accomplish, seeing that she never shuts up," Luke pointed out a little churlishly.

The bird in the tree above them gave out another trill of chirps, this time sounding more insistent.

Even with her hands full of notecards and scarf, Rory managed to wrap her arms around herself, trying to ward off a shiver. She looked at Luke steadily. "Guys don't have to be teenagers to be stupid, Luke."

His blood stopped still in his chest. Try as he might, he couldn't look away from her suddenly omniscient face.

"Don't make it harder than it has to be," Rory advised him. "Talk to Mom," she quietly suggested again.

His tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth. He had to swallow a couple of times to work it free. "Maybe…Maybe I will. You know. Sometime."

Rory studied him for another few moments. "OK, then," she said. "Thanks for bringing this back." She stepped through the door. "See you at breakfast."

"Good luck on your test," Luke remembered to say.

Heading home through the still dark streets, Luke didn't know if taking the scarf back was the best or the worst decision he'd ever made. All he knew was that not all teenagers were stupid. A couple of them, in fact, were far too wise for their own good.


End file.
